seek and you will find | a story.

[sunflower.]

Home is where the heart is.
Fifteen year old Joey White caused herself to fall into a very inconvenient, unwanted, and somewhat unrealistic situation – running away from home with her horse and one-and-only best friend, Atticus. Her family had been killed by a fever that hit the town, leaving Joey stranded and vulnerable to the world as she realized she was the only one in her family who survived the treacherous fever. Only half of the town residents made it through the fever and was able to survive, but Joey wished she could have died along with her family instead of being left behind to mourn in misery. The death of her family has caused her to think about her history, and regret ever hating her father…
When she decides to leave the place she called home for fifteen years of her life, the sudden decision takes her and Atticus on a journey they never thought they could tackle. In search for a possible new life out in the unknown, Joey realizes that there is more to life than just sadness, heartache, and suffering. In the process of searching for a new beginning, Joey loses Atticus and she is baffled by his disappearance. Will Joey find Atticus in time, before he returns to being wild? Will Joey find a place she would be able to call home? Or, will home find her?

[sunflower.]

Seek and You Will Find
By && e t e r n i t y
Chapter One

Nowhere to live, no one to love, and nothing to do – I admitted to myself that it was my own fault, landing in this inevitable situation; it was like having to dig myself out from deep under the ground with my two bare hands. Unfortunately, it was not an easy, quick, and enjoyable task as those that I have encountered previously in my life. It was unbearable, having to deal with the issues that no fifteen year old girl should ever deal with – the pressure, the stress, the strain, and the constant reminder of the immature decisions that I have made, which brought me to the place where I was right there and then.

Literally.

The scorching sun showed no mercy as it shone its rays to light up the earth; the heat bounced off every possible surface and crawled in to surround even the things that searched for something cooler than the sun, like the mere shade of a tree. My head throbbed uncontrollably, my lips tasted salty – the temperature has risen since the morning and it was still rising every second. The overwhelming heat pressed against my body and almost suffocated me, my denim and shirt clinging onto me. I did my best to ignore it and wiped off my sweaty forehead.

Seeing the road ahead of me was like a nagging reminder and a painful memory of what lay behind me thus far. The emotions, the decisions, and the disappointments – it all hung around in my head and caused a big headache to take over and rule over my senses. The headache appeared all so suddenly earlier that day when I saddled Atticus, and the immense, throbbing pain in my head caused me to struggle focusing on other things. It was unbearable, and I hard a hard time stopping myself from falling over.

A soft muzzle nudged my shoulder gently and brought me back to reality, having to blink a few times to eliminate the few thoughts that were left hanging around in my head. My eyes darted sharply to the right and I found myself staring right into the big, chocolate-brown eyes of Atticus. They seemed to be filled with sympathy and understanding, for Atticus knew what I was going through and he was pushing through it with me. He was by my side the whole time – through the ups and downs, lefts and rights. A true friend – at the moment he was the only thing in my life that I was able to love and appreciate. It baffled me how he was able to understand everything I told him and all the things I was going through; he was just a horse, but there was something very different about him. Every horse-loving girl was sure to think that her horse understood her, and so did I, but Atticus really was different from other horses. He was mine.

Trickling my fingers lovingly over his soft blaze, I wondered what was going through his mind right at that moment. Surely horses didn’t think about much more than food, galloping, and food, but it was still interesting to wonder what my best friend’s thoughts were. “Oh, you’re such a good boy,” I whispered to him softly, scratching his forehead before kissing his soft muzzle. It was my favourite place to kiss. His muzzle was made for my lips. “I’m sure my husband one day will be jealous of me giving you all the kisses, hey boy?” Chuckling a little, I felt my smile fade and the reality washed over me. There will be no ‘one day’. My life is almost over. With a cold and stiff expression, I didn’t say or think anything more, and turned around to gather Atticus’ tack.


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I pulled my covers up to my chin, staring up at the white-washed ceiling. I was cold and lonely, and I somewhat felt insecure right there, in my own room - one I have been sleeping in for nearly fifteen years. There was no assurance that I was going to be okay, and that everything would go back to normal. I was so unsure of everything; so … unprepared. I felt the most vulnerable I've ever felt in my whole life, listening to the loud voices below the thick wooden planks of my room's floor. My bed creaked as I dared to move onto my other side, and I slipped my head under the pillow to deafen out the unbearable sounds coming from the living room; the shouts between my mother and father.

I couldn't take it anymore; it was like a sharp knife driven deep into my heart, or two handcuffs tied tightly around my wrists, forcing me to cry with excruciating pain. But the pain wasn't physical; it was somewhere inside my soul - my heart - where nothing could heal properly. There would always be a 'mental' scar inside of me. Even though nobody else would be able to see it, I'd never forget it long after it has healed and the pain has gone. I've learned to never scratch on a place where it doesn't itch, otherwise the consequences could be fatal. That's somewhat what happened in this situation: I brought up the subject, and soon I was the one to be chased out of the room.

As I lay there on my side, contently staring out of the window into the foggy dark night, the loud voices gradually ceased. The clock in the hall ticked on. This whole situation didn't turn back time or fast-forward it; it just slowly but surely carried on with what it was used to doing. I saw a dim light being turned on somewhere upstairs in the long hall, probably the one farthest of my room - next to Gale's room. My parents would've been done with arguing by now, I was sure. My mother was always silent after an argument, because she didn't want to stir up any other unnecessary things that would make my father angrier.

"Joey."

An ice cold shrill went down my spine, and I realised that my fingers were clasping at the bed's edge. I swallowed, hard, and wanted to turn my gaze to see who called my name. Instead, I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. You don't want them to realize that you heard the whole conversation, Joey. I lay there in suspense, wondering what would happen next. I didn't want my parents to scold me for bringing up the subject, and I didn't want them to get divorced after their argument, either. It was that bad. But what should I do to prevent all that? I heard the door creak open a little wider, and then the soft footsteps of my little sister as she tiptoed closer to my bed. I opened my one eye slowly, just wide enough to see what she was doing. She stared at me, her eyes as wide as golf balls, her arms wrapped around her favourite teddybear and her chin resting on its fluffy head. A small smile appeared across my lips in the dark, the moonlight brightening up the room just enough so I could see her figure. She was so small and so helpless, yet she was so cute. I opened both of my eyes and sat upright in my bed, realising I wouldn't get away with pretending to be asleep. She knew that I liked to pretend, but tonight was not a night to do that. The whole situation was very real; even more real than any of us could ever imagine.

Her fine blonde hair was tousled from tossing and turning in her bed, I had noticed, and her marine-blue eyes were an ash grey under the soft touch of moonlight. I positioned my back against the cold marble wall, still sitting on my bed with my legs under the warm covers. The moon shone directly onto my bed, illuminating any sort of darkness that could scare us. Not that I was scared of the dark, but Gale sometimes was. I was only scared of the dark in situations like this, afraid that something would jump up out of the shadows and grab me by my throat unexpectedly. But those stuff only happened in horror movies - not in real life. But at that moment, real life felt like a horror movie.

I patted the bed beside me, flipping open the covers just far enough so she could slip inside. It was cold, and I started to slightly shiver. But it was fine; I was quite used to it. "Come, Gale." I stretched out my hand and touched her forearm - she was cold, and I could feel how she shivered. Her jaws clattered on each other as she stood there, looking at me expectantly. "Sit here, then we'll keep each other warm."

She gladly accepted the offer, and within the blink of an eye she was on my bed, my arm resting around her shoulders. Her legs were covered with the duvet, and her toes were like icicles against my legs. There was a silence, but it was precious. There was no need to break it, because both of us needed the silence. I sometimes thought that silence was needed on earth to show people how much noise they made in their everyday life. And it was true.

"Joey, I am scared."

Those three words explained a thousand things, but neither of us understood what those thousand things meant.
"Joey, what is going to happen? Are we going to be okay?"

I closed my eyes. A stream of silent tears slipped from my eyes, dropping onto the duvet below. Are we going to be okay? It was the exact same question I asked myself, over and over. Are mother and father going to be okay after tonight? I could not answer her – my mouth was dry and a knot formed in my throat. My lips felt cracked, and my tongue tied. I gently hugged her from her side, both of my arms wrapped around her and her teddybear. I kissed her on her head, burying my face in her soft golden hair. I took a deep breath, and let it out, worried that I was failing her and her questions. I was failing my own.
All I managed to whisper was, "I don't know, dear. I really don't know."


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{{ big work in progress. please don't steal. c:

[sunflower.]

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